


chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi

by pr1nc3ssp34ch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Crossover, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Human, Bad French Translating, Blowjobs, F/M, French!Derek, Inter-House Relationships, Inter-House Unity, Kate Argent Warning!!!, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sexual Abuse (Past), Sexual Abuse of a Minor (past), Unhealthy Teacher/Student Relationship (past), foreign exchange, handjobs, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr1nc3ssp34ch/pseuds/pr1nc3ssp34ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski has been at Hogwarts since his first year, okay. That's six years of experience. He knows how Hogwarts works, how it <em>operates</em>. He's not quite an <em>expert</em> or anything, but he's pretty damn sure he knows this school.</p><p>So why the hell have they waited like a million years to start taking <em>transfer students?</em></p><p>And why is he the only one who can't get a French date?</p>
            </blockquote>





	chantes une nouvelle chanson pour moi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharacterDevelopment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharacterDevelopment/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written for Brittany's birthday, who can be found on Tumblr [here](http://bralpha.tumblr.com), ao3 linked above. The Beauxbatons idea was taken from Shannon, Tumblr [here](http://characterdevelopmentwrites.tumblr.com), ao3 linked above.
> 
> Basically, happy sweet sixteen, have some Hogwarts AU. 
> 
> Title Translates to "sing a new song for me". Update: All translating is updated and has been done by the wonderful **Cindy** , who commented with it because she claimed nitpickiness. I am everlastingly thankful to her!. 
> 
> **All French in this work is translated into English in the End Notes**.
> 
> I took the Muggle clothes on weekends/Hogsmeade trips/etc thing from the movies, even though it really annoyed me that they did that, and Hogwarts does not actually have midterms in Harry Potter canon, but fuck you I do what I want.

"So when are they getting here again?" It was a loud whisper, since they were in the library, but it was as annoyed as he could get while whispering.

 

Scott rolled his eyes. "Dude, do you  _ever_ pay attention when Deaton talks? Or do you just focus on imagining how you're about to stuff your face?"

 

Stiles gave him a pointed look, and Scott rolled his eyes again, but he was laughing at the same time. "I can do both, okay. I was just shocked by the fact that we're  _introducing a foreign exchange program._ With Beauxbatons, for fuck's sake!  _Beaxbatons._ " Stiles shuddered. He'd heard awful things about that place - cold, snobby, gorgeous people were not his style. He got enough of that from Lydia.

 

"Look, all he said was that they'd be coming at the end of term, staying a semester, and to make them feel welcome. Oh! And that they'd be sorted. For the 'full experience' or whatever." Scott went back to reading, that frustrated puppyish look coming back to his face. "Now can you stop obsessing about it? We've got our potions exam tomorrow." Stiles groaned.  _Potions._ He loved potions, he did, but  _Harris._

 

"Right. You're right. But really, Scott? When have I been known to stop obsessing? If you'll recall, I obsessed consistently over Lydia for years, and then she took my virginity."

 

"Oh my god, you will  _never stop talking about that._ "

 

"You know that too."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Beauxbatons carriage arrived in the week between end of term and the start of the second, and almost the entire school was out to see them. Stiles didn't want to go, but since he was a Hufflepuff, his window didn't get a good view. It was as dramatic as he'd imagined it to be - giant, winged horses, a carriage the size of a house. Stiles did  _not_ envy the groundskeeper on that. Deaton stepped out to greet his sister, Madame Morrell, the headmaster. They were already turning out to be really unfairly attractive. 

 

And there weren't that many. A girl with brown curly hair stepped out first, and there was something steely in her eyes that made Stiles look away, for a second. The rest trickled steadily after her. A tall, skinny boy, almost drowning in his robes yet still managing to pull them off, with cherub curls and cheekbones that could cut through metal. A tall blonde girl with lipstick that said  _I'm trouble_ and a wicked smile, heels sinking into the grass when she stepped down, quickly followed by an even taller black guy with a ton of muscle and a bored look. The look, Stiles understood - this seemed like a whole lot of hooplah just for a few new kids. Finally two people who appeared to be twins, and who most definitely were the most gorgeous out of the bunch, stepped out and shut the doors behind them. Black hair, green eyes, one looking emotionless and the other with a wicked grin to match the blonde's. They were the same height and had the same bone structure, and were clearly related if they weren't twins. Stiles didn't know what everyone else did, but he could barely catch his breath. It was like walking straight into a  _Witch Weekly_ ad. 

 

This year was going to be absolute hell.

 

"Marin. As you can see, the whole school has been extremely excited for your arrival."

 

Morrell raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Alan, I  _can_  see that _._ Will the horses be attended to?"

 

"They will be taken care of."

 

"Right. Well, we will use the carriage as our rooms. Thank you for allowing us to stay. We hope you will enjoy our hospitality as much, come the fall?"

 

"I'm sure we will," Deaton said. It was all very formal for family - then again, Stiles only knew how his family and Scott's worked, and they were pretty close. He knew Lydia hardly ever talked to her parents. Maybe it was something like that.

 

"Back to bed, everyone!" Deaton called out, turning around to face them. "I'll see you and our new students for breakfast."

 

Everyone hopped to, and that was that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The annoying thing about all of your closest friends being in different houses is that you have no one to sit with at lunch. Stiles normally sat alone, which was fine with him. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff shared enough classes that he got to see Scott pretty often, and they hung out on the Quidditch pitch or on the grounds most days. But breakfast, lunch and dinner were lonely affairs. Scott was better at making friends, with his smiley puppy face, but Stiles... was always jittery and sort-of an asshole. People always asked him why he was put in the 'nice' house.

 

To which he responded with something bitchy.

 

The day after the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons, he didn't think anything would be different. The only problem with that was... Stiles  _did_ get obsessive. Fixated, you might say. And that night he'd dreamed about that boy - the one from Beauxbatons with the unusually intense stubble for someone who was seventeen years old. He was the one who'd looked the coldest - and it almost reminded him of Lydia, but worse, because he'd always known Lydia had a soft spot. He'd seen it when she looked at Jackson. But this guy - he hadn't seen it at all, and he  _needed_ it, like he needed to breathe. Hufflepuffs were finders, and all Stiles wanted to do was find that guy's soft spot.

 

So it's not  _that_ surprising that upon seeing him sitting at the Hufflepuff table (and really? as if he wasn't already a mysterious contradiction), at the very end, in uniform black robes and going totally unnoticed, Stiles sat down right across from him.

 

"Hi," he said cheerfully, loading his plate with bacon, eggs, toast, and waffles. The guy looked up, raised an eyebrow, and looked back down. The  _sass_ in that eyebrow. Complexities.

 

"Uh, hello?" Stiles tried again. He didn't speak French. "Bonjour?" he said in a poor accent, and the guy looked up again, eyebrows furrowed this time. Stiles sighed. "Do you even understand me? Sorry for the horrible accent - that is literally the only French I know, dude." The guy didn't speak. Stiles took it as a sign.

 

"Okay, maybe not the only French. Uh... it's t'appelle, right? For name?" His mother spoke French, but he couldn't remember much of her anymore, which sucked. The French? Even less. Still, Beauxbatons (though he looked amused) spoke up. "Derek Hale," he told Stiles. His voice was way higher than Stiles was expecting, but definitely not  _bad,_ even with the snobby French accent. He was like French-boy-Lydia, this was a disaster. A tornado hitting him straight in the chest, oh Merlin's Beard,  _Derek's chest._

 

Stiles cleared his throat. "Right! We got that, that's good, names, are good, mine's Stiles! By the way." Derek was eating, but he wasn't exactly  _not_ paying attention to Stiles, which was a good sign. He struggled to think of something else to say - especially considering Derek had given no inkling that he understood him. 

 

"Wait, why would they even send you here if you couldn't understand me? Or is Mme Morrell planning on translating?" The moment he said her name, he could see Derek's shoulders stiffen. He looked like he was actually about to get up from the table, if only from discomfort - Stiles backtracked pretty quickly.

 

"No, no, wait! Uh, I'm sorry? I - I'm pretty sure you know what that means at least. Everyone says I have a really big mouth, and that's probably true, it's not even offensive anymore. But like, if I say something and it offends you, like right then, you gotta tell me, okay? Because otherwise I just have no idea and then I keep doing it and doing it until I crash headlong into a wall full of your hatred and that's not fun for anyone, amirite?"

 

Derek looked at him like he was insane. Stiles felt a little out of sorts - his cheeks felt hot from embarrassment. They just sort of sat there for a second, and Stiles took a moment to realize that maybe there was a  _reason_ Derek sat alone.

 

But then he got up from the table, and Derek's eyes never once left his.

 

Stiles knocked over an entire goblet of pumpkin juice, but it was  _so totally worth it_ to see Derek smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Dude, did you see her?" Scott asked the moment they were in their corner of the library. Stiles, still adequately flabbergasted by Smiling Derek, could only shake his head. "Uh, who?"

 

"Allison." The dreamy quality of his voice signalled a crush was on the way - Stiles vividly remembered his own, 1st year, the first time he saw Lydia Martin. Stiles groaned. " - Allison Argent," Scott finished, and Stiles raised his eyebrows.

 

Stiles immediately hated Scott for saying  _Argent,_ French accent and all, correctly. He vowed to work harder on his accent - it might've impressed Derek. Wait, damn it -

 

Stiles sighed.

 

"Allison Argent. I'm assuming she was sorted into Gryffindor?" Scott grinned, nodding, hair flopping over his forehead. "She's like... I dunno, the prettiest girl I've ever met. And her English is perfect - her accent isn't even that bad. She dropped her ink while running to get to Transfiguration this morning - I gave her mine, and she gave me this big smile, and... wow. Stiles, she's - really really cool. Like, calm and collected and stuff, but she laughs really well, and I listened to her talk a little at lunch with Laura - "

 

"Who's Laura?"

 

Scott started out of his Allison haze slightly, shaking his head. "Uh, Laura Hale. They were talking in French, but you know my mom speaks it, so I caught a little bit of what they were saying, and I think Allison does  _archery._ What if she learned from a centaur?"

 

Stiles was still gaping like a fish. "Wait up, backtrack - Laura Hale? As in, Hale, sister to Derek Hale?"

 

"Uh... maybe. Who's Derek?"

 

Stiles snapped his mouth shut. It was a testement to Allison's beauty that Scott failed to interrogate him on the subject. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It became a thing. A Derek-and-Stiles meals thing. Stiles was known for having a big mouth - he mentioned it to Derek once already - but for all the hype, he couldn't actually remember a time he'd talked this much. Derek looked confused a lot (probably because he didn't know what Stiles was saying, but maybe something else), and sometimes Stiles thought maybe he just had no idea why this loudmouth British kid kept talking his ear off every day. But days turned to weeks, and Derek didn't move, didn't go anywhere that'd make Stiles need to search him out. 

 

Stiles wouldn't even have continued talking if it weren't for Derek's facial expressions. He had always known he was expressive, liked to gesture and make faces, and apparently Derek got enough out of those to pass judgement, because his face moved just a little bit, sometimes. It was like Stiles could see every thought going on in his head. So he kept talking, about anything he could think of. He started by telling Derek about Scott, about how they rode to Hogwarts in the same compartment and had been best friends ever since, despite the fact that Scott was in Gryffindor. Once he'd run out of Scott stories (and there were a lot of them), many including Melissa (Madame McCall), the school nurse, he moved on to the other people in his friend group. Which wasn't very large.

 

He talked about Lydia, about how in love with her he was from 1st to 5th year, and how when she broke up with Jackson she decided to ask him if he wanted to know what being with her would  _really_ feel like. So she snuck him into her and Jackson's old 'secret room' and took his virginity and it was still the weirdest making friends story he had, but hey, it made him realize he wasn't in love with her and also,  _he lost his virginity._ He normally felt awkward telling that story, but Derek couldn't even tell what it was about! Though he might have guessed a bit, if the thundrous expression was anything to go by.

 

Stiles talked about how weird people thought he was, for not having Hufflepuff friends. He talked about how House sortings were based on what you valued, not what you were, about how everyone fucked over Hufflepuff house when in fact it was, in his opinion, the best of them all. About how much he valued the things Hufflepuff was really about, not the things people always said it was. About how when the sorting hat was on his head, Stiles thought about his father, a Muggle Sheriff who worked harder than anyone he'd ever known, who saved people and was loyal to a fault. About his mother, who always knew where he'd put what he'd misplaced, who bought him his first broom, who taught him about things like respect and equality and fairness, who was giving even on her dying day. He talked about how bullshit it was, that the houses couldn't get along, that they were always so split between themselves. About how it was ridiculous that everyone said Slytherins were evil, just because dark wizards came out of the house like  _a million years ago,_ and how Lydia, Danny, and even Jackson weren't bad people - they were loyal to few and fierce about it, and they cared about how they presented themselves, how they were seen. They weren't bad for striving to be ambitious, just like Gryffindors weren't inherently good just because they thought  _bravery_  was good - though, he did point out Scott might just have been the best person he knew.

 

At first, he was pretty sure Derek only tolerated him. But something changed, as the days went by. Maybe it was polite interest fading into something more like habit, but Stiles swore Derek was starting to look fond. That when he rambled about something, or ranted about his day, Derek was  watching, eagerly trying to figure him out. It was sort of... thrilling. In a way he'd never experienced before. He'd never been mysterious - never felt like anyone needed to work out the pieces of his puzzle.

 

Derek even started to laugh, when Stiles got a little too wild with his hands or dropped food down his shirt because he forgot about his fork, so into the story as he was. Eventually he started doing those things on purpose; Stiles started to ache every time he went a day without seeing those stupid bunny teeth bared wide in a smile that seemed to light up the whole room - probably because it looked like Derek probably didn't do it very often. He wished Derek could talk back to him, and started talking about that too, but stopped himself, because whenever he did the forlorn feeling seemed to seep into his voice, and Derek would look at him like he wanted to answer all of his questions if he could but figure out what they were.

 

Scott laughed at him a  _lot_ for crushing on a guy who hadn't said more than two words to him. Stiles never enjoyed hitting Scott more than he did then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Allison was pretty cool. Stiles liked her alright because she liked Scott, which made Scott happy, though she did steal a lot of bro time and cause Stiles to start spending a lot more time alone in the library. What he liked best about her, probably, was the way she seemed to often use Scott as a moral compass, the same way Stiles did himself. She was a little bit shady, and Stiles could respect that. He could get with it. He was  _exactly like that._

 

What he hated about Allison? Her unerring refusal to dish any gossip about Derek Hale.

 

"Why do you hate me?" Stiles asked, flopping into the armchair next to Allison, Scott having gone to get some books from the librarian, Ms. Blake. Normally they had to be quiet, but in this area of the library Ms. Blake tended towards leniency, especially considering Stiles was one of her favorite pupils. Allison laughed, shaking her head. " _Ridicule,_ Stiles, I do not hate you. But if this is about Derek again, I told you, I have promised not to say anything."

 

"But that means he told you something. That means he's not embarrassed of me! That's a good sign, at least. I'm always wondering if he's annoyed, somewhere in the back of my head - but until he actually, you know, stabs me in my sleep for talking his ear off, I guess I'll keep doing it." _  
_

Scott came back, sighing and leaning down to kiss Allison's cheek. "Talking about Derek again?" he asked, considering the way Allison had succumbed to a giggle fit.

 

"It is just," Allison managed after calming down, taking a deep breath, "That Stiles does not quite know how funny he is being."

 

Stiles heaved out a put-upon sigh. "I get that a lot."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"First Quidditch match of the season today," Stiles said first thing as he sat down. Derek's fork clattered across his plate, but he did look up, raising an eyebrow. Stiles understood - his tone was completely frazzled. He hated the start of the Quidditch season - loved being in the middle of it, but the beginning was always when he had the most nerves. "I play Seeker," he said, miming catching a Snitch, "So like, you understand. My job's super important, you know? Always makes me nervous." 

 

Derek tilted his head, and Stiles took it as sympathy. He pressed on, shoving bacon angrily in his mouth as he tried to figure out what to say. But that was the thing with Derek - he didn't have to think it out, because he wouldn't understand anyway. Didn't have to try to be funny, didn't have to seem articulate just because he wanted to be perceived as smart. "I mean, I know I'm a great Seeker, like,  _I know._ I made the team 2nd year, which is like, unheard of, but my dad says it's because I have some Muggle funk called ADHD that makes me really distracted by shiny things? So finding the snitch, it's easy, but the people watching me part. I don't really like that. If you haven't noticed, I prefer to be on the sidelines and let Scott take the glory." If Derek understood him, he'd know this from the stories Stiles has told him about the trouble he and Scott get into, but since he didn't...

 

"It all sort of rests on your shoulders, as a Seeker. You have to be the hero of the game. And I'm not a hero, you know? I'm just not." He finished his bacon, unable to stomach much more, and sighed, looking at Derek, trying to give him a smile. "Will you show up? I mean, duh, you can't tell that I'm asking and you'll probably come because who doesn't come to the Quidditch games? But I guess I just... wish you were coming for me?" Stiles laughed a little at himself, putting a hand on the back of his neck before slamming it slightly on the table as he pushed himself up to go change into his Quidditch robes. Before he could move, there was another hand covering his. Stiles sucked in a harsh breath.

 

" _Tu n'aimes pas être le héros, mais je suis sûr que ça t'irait bien_ ," Derek told him, looking straight into Stiles' eyes. He had a moment to wonder, was this how Derek felt, with him talking all the time? 

 

Before he could say anything in return, Mitchell, the team Captain, clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go, Stilinski - don't wanna be underdressed first game of the season."

 

Stiles nodded and slipped his hand out from under Derek's.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stiles was surprised he managed to catch the snitch at all, with the way he couldn't take his eyes off Derek.

 

Derek, who was staring right back every time he stole a glance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

" - and fucking  _Jackson,_ god he's always trying to fuck me over, with his stupid Firebolt 380 and his stupid smug smirk. But I got it anyway, because he's a little bitch, and I win.  _I win, Whittemore._ " He knew Jackson couldn't hear him at the Slytherin table, knew Derek probably thought he was mad at  _him_ and was thus very confused, but he didn't care, because he fucking won. Stiles Stilinski, bringing those badgers closer to the Quidditch Cup every game he played.

 

"Anyway, I'm glad you were there," Stiles continued, taking a ferocious bite of toast. "It was nice to, uh, see you in the crowd." It didn't matter that Derek couldn't tell he was saying something embarrassing - his face still heated up, and Derek's seemed to flush, too, just a little in response. Stiles cracked a smile. "Thanks. For watching me. I saw that. I don't know if you caught some of the words from yesterday, or if you were just being polite... but it made me feel lucky. So, uh, if you understand thank you... that'd be good."

 

Derek flashed a smile, too, and Stiles couldn't help but grin. From what he could see, he was still the only Hogwarts student who managed to coax those out. Allison did, often, when he saw them on the grounds together. Scott said they were best friends - something about being united against a common indecency, and then he dissolved into waxing poetic about Allison's vocabulary. He saw Derek with Boyd, too, the quiet somber one, and almost always he would eventually be accompanied by Erica, who was attached to Derek's sister at the hip. Derek smiled and laughed with all of them, but he still hadn't seen him give anyone but Stiles that rare, genuine,  _sweet_ little smile. 

 

It made Stiles' throat close up, and he wondered, is it possible to develop feelings for the way the corners of someone's mouth turn up when they're fighting a grin? For the way someone taps their fork against their plate when they're thinking, the way they walk when they're too tired to be trying at all, the way they cross their arms when something's bothersome? Stiles wondered if you had to know how someone talked to know what they thought, especially when it was almost always clearly written across their face.

 

He thought, maybe, if it  _was_ impossible, that he'd just become an exception to a rule.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A month went by, and it just - wasn't fair, honestly, how attracted to Derek he became. It had gone way past the intense green eyes, the cheekbones, the fucking stubble. Even past his walk. It turned into the way he rasped on his laugh like he wasn't quite used to laughing so much anymore. The way every time Mme Morrell put a hand on his shoulder and got a look in her eye, like she was reminding him of something important, Derek's whole face shut down. He wanted to turn Mme Morrell into stone. 

 

Scott seemed to be competing with him for who could talk more about the person they liked/loved - but it was okay, that way. When Stiles had someone he cared for in return, despite the unimaginable difference in Scott's feelings being reciprocated. He learned that while Allison was cryptic, she wasn't  _entirely_ immune to being worn down, and through it that Derek did talk about him, though never what he mentioned. Not beyond simple things - he thought Stiles was funny, he enjoyed his company. The least vague (and most perplexing) thing Allison mentioned was, "I wish that I could tell him you talk of him constantly. He would not worry so much, then, I think. But your secrets and his are equally to yourselves, yes?" 

 

No matter how much Stiles begged, she didn't say anything more on  _that_ subject, either.

 

Laura was also extremely difficult to find. Scott claimed she was scary that way, her and Derek both able to blend into the shadows - then again, maybe Laura couldn't speak very well either? Stiles knew nothing about her, really. Erica was more accessable, but frustrating - she spent more time flirting with him, even when Boyd was there, than she did answering any of his questions. Out of all of them she was the one with the least amount of accent - apparently she was a dual citizen of French and British descent, and had grown up speaking both languages from before she could remember. Speaking English, however, only seemed to make it  _easier_ for her to doublespeak and talk in circles. Apparently Derek's friends were under strict orders to torture him.

 

Of course, that didn't mean he didn't  _know_ Derek. He knew Derek valued the same things he did, had to, to be in Hufflepuff despite his demeanor. He knew Derek came from a family of sisters - it was clear in the way he treated Laura and in the way he surrounded himself with women, even in his friend group. He knew Derek loved to write and always kept a journal on him, though he had no idea what it said. He knew from watching Derek watch Quidditch that he'd played it at Beaxbatons, saw his hands tense like he ached to hold the broomstick of another player and be in on the action. When he really concentrated, he'd tongue at the tip of his quill - it was very distracting. Derek loved tea and hated pumpkin juice. He smiled most when Stiles talked with his hands. And most of all, he'd turned down every single date he'd been asked to since his arrival. That was a fact Stiles was acutely aware of - not that he'd ever admit to stalking Derek's love life through the grapevine.

 

Stiles could admit to a lot of things, but this weird hopeless relationship he'd started and didn't know what to do with... the depth of that, for so many reasons, was harder for him to accept.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Morning, Derek," Stiles said cheerfully, sitting down as per normal, facing the Gryffindor table. Derek looked up at the sound of his voice, the corner of his mouth sliding up.

 

Over Derek's shoulder he saw someone wave, and unthinkingly waved back to Scott, before realizing that sitting directly next to Scott was Derek's terrifying twin sister.

 

"Oh, hey, your sister's watching us." It was a casual remark - it wasn't the first time it'd happened, and Stiles stopped caring a while ago. Derek, however, seemed to at least catch part of that, because he stiffened and turned, sending what Stiles assumed to be his most evil glare right her way. Laura caught it and snickered, hiding behind her hand, before leaning across Scott to whisper something to Allison, who threw back her head and laughed with her. Stiles frowned.

 

Derek turned back to him, still looking rather grumpy. "Dude, hey, it's fine. Your sister seems pretty cool. Scott is apparently sworn to secrecy on the subject, but if he likes her I do. And she's really pretty - the staring thing doesn't like, make that part go away."

 

If anything, Derek looked to be in an even worse mood.

 

"Not that she's anywhere near as pretty as you are," Stiles continued blithely. He was very sure that Derek couldn't understand him at all, after having talked to him for over two months and getting no response. "I mean, when you arrived, it was like, wow, bam, gorgeous, the both of you. But just... I don't know if it was the stubble or your expression? Like, you're both really stupidly attractive, but Laura looks like she  _knows_ it, like she flaunts it and wants the attention. You look like you're trying so hard to work around it, and you can't, and there's something beautiful to me about that. Something I've never seen, before." Derek is eating almost mechanically, but he isn't freaking out, so Stiles assumes he isn't getting any of it. Which, great. Awesome for him.

 

"I wonder if you would've figured me out by now, if you and I spoke the same language. It's stupid, isn't it? No one can really 'figure a person out'. But that's how you look at me, sometimes. Like I'm a puzzle you're begging to solve, but you can't just - see all the pieces. See how they fit together." Stiles was avoiding Derek's eyes now, too - there were some things you always found difficult to say out loud, whether or not the person you were talking to understood what you were saying. "As much as I want you to talk to me, I'm sort of glad? That you can't. Because I'd lose that mystery, I guess. Washed down the drain." Stiles faked a smile, and seeing Derek it turned into something more genuine. "But we don't have to worry about that, do we, buddy!" 

 

And Stiles started into his plans for Easter Holiday.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _"Maman ?" Derek asks carefully, after his mother has roped him into helping her cook Easter Dinner_ again. 

_"Oui chéri."_

_Derek finished chopping one carrot and started on the next. "Comment tu dis à quelqu'un que tu l'aimes, quand tu lui as menti ? Quand tu lui as fait du mal.."_

_Talia finished what she was doing and stopped his hands, looking him in the eye. "Pourquoi as-tu menti à ce quelqu'un ?_

_"Parce que - " Derek swallowed. "J'avais peur."_

_After a beat of silence, Talia squeezed his hands in hers once, kissing Derek's forehead. "Laisse parler ton coeur. Espère son pardon. Sois gentil et patient, et conserve ta passion. Même si le pardon vient lentement. La perévérance est la plus haute forme de flatterie."_

_Derek shook his head. "J'ai toujours peur. Après Mlle Argent - "_

_Talia gave him a fierce look. "Elle ne peut plus t'atteindre. Ne lui donne pas tant de pouvoir."_

_Sighing, Derek nodded. "Oui Maman."_

_With a pat on the cheek, Talia went back to stirring. "Passe moi les oignons s'il te plait mon chéri. Et je m'attends à voir cette personne au cours des vacances d'été."_

_Derek groaned, and from the kitchen door, Laura and Cora cheered. They were insufferably nosy sisters, after all._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Hey, dad?"

 

John raised his eyebrows. When Stiles used that tone of voice, it was never something he  _wanted_ to hear. "What."

 

Stiles winced. "Uh. So, say I maybe think I fell in love with someone I've never spoken to?"

 

This topped the list. "You  _what?_ Stiles, you don't even  _have_ the internet at that school, I didn't think I needed to be worried about this."

 

Quickly, Stiles began backpedaling. "No, no, I just - so  _not_ what I meant. We're having this exchange program, and there are a few students over from Beauxbatons - the French school for Magic." John motioned for him to continue. "And there's this guy, but he can't understand me because he's  _French,_ so we don't actually talk. I sort of talk... at him? But he's just - he's  _so_ attractive, and making him laugh is like, God, I dunno, the pinnacle of my day? Doesn't that spell out love, or something? At least an infatuation."

 

John's eyebrows looked like they might climb into his hair and live there. It wasn't a good sign. "Right." He opened his mouth, then closed it - Stiles hopped anxiously from foot to foot. "You know what, kid? I think you're old enough to make this decision for yourself."

 

Stiles groaned. "That's a cop-out! And don't tell me you're being punny!"

 

The fridge door opened and shut, and John returned with a diet soda, giving Stiles a good eyeroll. "When you're in love, you'll know. You'll see them and it's like... I can't explain. The whole world narrows. That's the  _real_ magic - whatever you and your mother have to say about it." John gave him a grim smile. "My football game is on in five, and this is one of my two days off. Are you going to stand here asking me the answer to a question you already have figured out, or are the Stilinski men going to bond?"

 

... Stiles really, really loved his dad, sometimes. Okay, maybe all the time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Return from Easter Holiday was strange in perplexing ways. Derek kept looking at him, like,  _with intent,_ which freaked him out, because usually Derek only looked at him with either mild fondness or complete confusion. Lydia got a new boyfriend, and Stiles subsequently got very antsy, as he always did when Lydia had a boyfriend who hadn't been vetted by him first. She knew he felt that way - that's why she dated people he didn't  _know,_ because she was devious like that - but it still made him anxious. He didn't want a repeat of Jackson again. While Jackson wasn't the worst person in the world, and had grown a lot, he'd done a lot of shitty things to Lydia. Things like slamming her into corridor walls and screaming at her, then coming  back and telling her it didn't matter, because she still loved him, just because he knew that she did. Things Stiles  _never wanted_ to happen to her again, no matter what Lydia said about burning bridges. 

 

Scott and Allison had become a constant, at least. It was comforting - Allison's excessively proper grammar and Disney Dimples made her easy to like, even though she didn't dish on Derek like he consistently asked her to. Stiles quickly found that not hanging out with Allison meant not hanging out with  _Scott,_ since the two were practically conjoined nowadays, but that was fine. Allison was great for serious conversations - Scott, while very sincere, was not as great with the advice giving. Not that he was able to ask Allison anything that wasn't extremely vague, considering she was so close to Derek, but still. In theory, it worked for him.

 

Not so much currently though, considering the moment he entered the library, Allison was nowhere to be found. Stiles didn't  _mind,_ necessarily, he missed Scott and Stiles bro-time, but Scott seemed upset. "Hey, dude."

 

Scott made a vague gesture. Stiles took it as 'sit down my wonderful brother of not-blood and let me give you the diggity down low'. 

 

It was slow coming, but the details  _did_ eventually come. "Allison and I had a fight."

 

That was also a long time coming. Stiles sighed. "About what?"

 

"Isn't it obvious?" Scott looked up at him, wide, puppy eyes still particularly naive. Stiles caught glimpses, sometimes, of the man Scott would be, the wizard, someday, but at sixteen, Scott was still wide-eyed and idealistic. It was an attractive trait, in a friend, because Stiles needed someone to remind him how to be optimistic. But when Scott got upset, it was hard not to feel like he should work on his shell, on making sure he knew that the world was not a wish-granting factory. That his Auror father leaving Melissa for taking the job at Hogwarts wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him, though it felt to Scott like it was. He sighed. 

 

"You're going to have to spell it out, dude." Scott looked down at his hands, and Stiles realized he was turning his wand between his fingertips, over and over again. "I - " he started, then stopped again, frowning intensely.

 

"I don't even know what we were fighting about. Just... you know. What's going to happen, when term's over."

 

It hit him hard, those words.  _When term's over._ Scott was right, it was unspoken. When term is over, and Derek and Allison have graduated off to start their new French jobs and live their adult French lives. Of course they would. Well, of course  _Derek_ would. Stiles thought he was probably going to learn English, during his time here, but French was still clearly his preferred language. Allison, on the other hand... he could work with Allison.

 

"Allison's going to graduate," Stiles said, clapping him on the back. "And you're clearly going to write to her, don't pretend you wont. She'll write back. And, if she wants, she can get a job here. If she doesn't, she can still come to visit, or you can visit her over the holidays. And if you love her in a year,  _you_ can get a job in France and work on becoming bilingual." Stiles grinned, and it was false, but not because he didn't believe what he was saying. "C'mon, Scott, you're the most stubborn guy I've ever met. You're gonna let a little distance get in your way?"

 

Scott looked like he was trying very hard not to get hopeful and excited again. "You really think a relationship can work that way?"

 

Stiles nodded. "I really think it could work. Not for everyone, maybe, but you and Allison? You're two little peas in a forever kind of pod. So stop fighting and enjoy the time together so that you can wank to it when it's no longer available to you."

 

Mouth dropping open, Scott smacked him hard on the arm. Stiles groaned, falling back. "Stiles!"

 

But they were both laughing again, and Stiles thought,  _crisis averted._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Ow, ow, ow, ow,  _ow!_ " He shouted, as Lydia Martin dragged him by the ear behind the tapestry that hid the room that they'd had sex in (and also the room they traded secrets in, but it was forever known in Stiles' mind as the virginity lair). Lydia ignored all protest, in fact, she seemed to tighten her nails on the shell of his ear every time he yelled. The door slammed shut behind them, and Lydia plopped down into one of the three armchairs someone had added to the otherwise sparse room, years before their time. 

 

"I am appalled at you, Stilinski." Oh, no. She only called him that when she was particularly displeased.

 

Stiles swallowed hard. "Um?"

 

She crossed her arms at the same time as kicking one leg over the other, in a way that was particularly menacing considering the sharp heels she chose to wear. It was Saturday, and therefore robes were optional, so Lydia was dressed to the nines - crisp blouse, high-waisted skirt, lipstick red and wild to match her hair and stilettos that could stab a man. She was clearly not in the mood for games. 

 

"I had to hear from  _Isaac,_ Stiles. You know I hate being less informed, especially less informed than by  _boyfriend._ "

 

Stiles did know that. But he still didn't understand what she was talking about. "Hear  _what?_ "

 

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Don't play stupid, Stiles. You're dating Derek Hale!" Stiles' mouth dropped open in surprise.

 

"Is that what Isaac said?"

 

The look she gave him clearly stated he was an idiot. "No. The exchange students are all freakishly close. Isaac wouldn't give me any details, and Allison - "

 

"You've been talking to  _Allison?_ How do you even know Allison?"

 

Lydia smiled serenely. "I take seventh year Potions. She's my cauldron mate. And my best friend. Anyway, the point is, Isaac has informed me that Erica told him that Laura has apparently been milking Scott and Allison for information about you and Derek for weeks, since her brother was being particularly close-lipped."

 

"Wait, who told Isaac?"

 

"Stiles! So not the point," Lydia chastised, shaking her head. "The point is,  _you_ have a secret boyfriend and  _you_ didn't tell me." Stiles shook his head, trying to convey the part where Derek  _wasn't his secret boyfriend,_ but he didn't really think it came across. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

 

"He's not my secret boyfriend."

 

Lydia pouted. "That's not nearly as fun." After a moment of silence, the corner of her mouth turned up again, sly smirk working it's way onto her face. "But there is  _something,_ isn't there?"

 

"You mean my overwhelming crush on him that rivals the Lydia Martin 10-year-plan?" Stiles asked.

 

She somehow managed to look both offended and pleased. "Someone to rival  _me?_ Impossible. Though I will admit that he's gorgeous." Stiles knew that meant something - Lydia didn't tend to give out her approval very often, and when she did it was important. To Stiles, at least. 

 

"Why is it that you think I need your approval when you refuse to take mine?"

 

Lydia rolled her eyes with a saccharine smile. "Because I'm the one with the experience. But you don't have to worry about it - I approve of your taste, and dispair in your reluctance to tell me about it. Now... what are you going to do to make it up to me?"

 

Stiles sighed. This was going to be a long afternoon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As it turned out, appeasing Lydia was easier than usual. Her birthday was in a week, after all, and it fell on a Hogsmeade trip - Stiles had to write Gringotts and practically empty his account, but he'd be getting a job after Hogwarts, anyway, and he could save up again. He liked buying things for Lydia - while she wasn't as material as everyone seemed to think, she did enjoy getting presents and he liked the way her face lit up - so it wasn't much of a hardship. Not like he really spent it on himself, anyway.

 

The walk to Hogsmeade was always nice, but especially on days like this, when the world was mixing spring and summer in it's pallete and everything was warm and dry but the flowers were still blooming and the grass was still brightly, vibrantly green. Lydia linked her arm with his on the way there, explaining that Isaac would be with the rest of the exchange students for most of the day before they met up at Madame Puddifoot's. It wasn't long until Danny was on Stiles' other side, and it was nice - he hadn't seen his Slytherin friends in a while, he'd been so caught up in his own head. It was so much easier to see how shallow his feelings for Derek were when he hadn't seen him in a while - how could you really know someone, when you hadn't even spoken to them? He was a fool, and he knew it, the same as Lydia had when she gave him that look that said  _you idiot._

 

Stiles ends up buying her a  _lot,_ actually. The tastiest sugar quills, everlasting chocolate nail polish, books galore, a new cage for her owl, Ophelia... the list went on and on. Lydia, at least, took pity on him when it came to carrying it all - she'd brought a bag with an undectectable extendable charm on it, and every gift clanked merrily inside. Eventually, Lydia deemed he would be elevated once more in her eyes if he bought her a butterbeer and talked cheap gossip to him in the Three Broomsticks, so Stiles pulled her chair out for her.

 

Like a god damn gentleman.

 

"What's Isaac like?" he immediately asked first, because Lydia was being very particular about keeping them apart. She rolled her eyes, flagging Madame Rosmerta down in lieu of answering. "He's wonderful," she admitted, eventually, and Stiles grinned. "Seriously! He is, he's not... like Jackson, at all. He's definitely cocky, and... brazen, at first, but now that we talk a lot he's... more, I suppose." The wicked twist of her mouth was downplayed by the genuine glint in her eyes. Stiles was happy for her, honestly - if he made her feel like this, who was he to judge? She'd always been pushing and pulling with Jackson. Not to say that their love wasn't real, because it definitely was, but whatever she had with this Isaac kid was a lot more... normal. Healthy. It had a clean feeling about it, like something new and small and budding, when she spoke of him. Stiles let the last vestiges of his need to approve the boy waste away to nothing.

 

Madame Rosmerta set their mugs on the table with a tired smile, and Stiles forked over a couple galleons, ignoring Lydia's eye roll. "I don't know why you insist on coming here when you hate the mugs," he told her, sipping foam and trying to lick it all off his lips. He didn't know how, but he always managed to get that shit all over his face. Lydia sighed, looking put upon. "Because I know  _you_ love it, you idiot. And I like the butterbeer - I just hate feeling like I'm a 40 year old man in a biker bar. Plus they're too big, they make my hands feel small."

 

Despite all her deflecting, Stiles was grinning like a loon. He tapped her foot with his under the table. "Awww, Lydia, you love me."

 

She gave him a death glare.

 

"No, no, you said it," he reiterated, smile widening, "You loooooove me."

 

"Mostly not."

 

"You love me sooooooo much, Lydia, you love me soooooooo much." He leans across the table and starts smacking wet kisses all over her face, at which point she shrieks and cracks, finally laughing and trying to push him away. "I thought you'd gotten over me!" she joked as he sat back down.

 

He groaned, slamming a hand over his chest. "You're the only one for me."

 

Lydia kicked him far too hard in the shin for that comment, and neither of them noticed the pair of pale green eyes watching sadly from the corner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stiles couldn't find Derek. At first he thought he just wasn't getting up early enough, but after days on end he realized that Derek was actually,  _actively_ avoiding him. Which, uh, rude? How the hell could he possibly manage to offend someone when they  _couldn't understand each other?_

 

It was stupid. Stiles thought it was stupid, and no matter how many times Scott told him he was just angry because he hated being worried, he wasn't going to change his mind.

 

Except he... sort of was, worried, you know. A little bit. What the fuck did he do? He'd already come to the terms with the fact that what he felt for Derek was nothing more than the same thing he'd been doing to Lydia - putting someone on a pedestal, creating someone he could love because there was no one to love him. But that didn't mean he wanted to  _stop,_ or anything, and Derek wouldn't have known that realization anyway, so unless he had a mind reading power it couldn't be that.

 

He just... didn't really know what to do. Stiles liked routine, he sort of thrived on it at school, because there was so much, and eating alone again sucked. It was weird, now, and also far more lonely, because it's worse to take something away when you had it once than to never have had it at all.

 

By the third week, Stiles was determined. Derek could do whatever, but he was at least going to get some answers, even if it meant dragging the guy straight to Allison. The rest of the students probably thought he was weird, combing up and down the tables like that, but when there was no Derek to be found, he sighed. Of course.

 

The Hufflepuff dormitory was right by the kitchens.

 

Stiles tickled the pear it's absolute minimum amount before he was allowed entry, the square painting swinging forth and revealing a tiny, solitary table, with one chair set up for one lonely exchange student. His back was to Stiles, and despite the many house elves that came to greet him, Derek didn't seem to notice he was there until they brought Stiles a chair and he plopped it down on the opposite side of him.

 

In fact, Derek jumped, fork clattering to his plate as he looked up with wide eyes, straight at Stiles. God, his eyes were beautiful.

 

"Alright, mister. You've been avoiding me. If you don't understand I'm prepared to use Allson as translator so we can actually have this conversation."

 

Derek swallowed. Hard. He opened his mouth, then shut it, looking down sheepishly. It was apparently a sign for Stiles to continue - because that's what he did.

 

"I don't know what I did, to you, but you can't just - you can't  _hide_ in here, dude, that's not even... if you don't want to be friends with me, that's fine. I mean, it's not - it's not  _fine,_ but it's your choice, but you gotta make other friends. You can't just hide in here, I wont let you. I don't know what - " his voice breaks a little tiny bit, it's very manly, " - I  _did_ to you, dude, but... it sucks, not having you there. You know I sat alone for six years until you came? Every day. It's not like I  _minded,_ you know, I had good friends, just not in my house. But then you came and I had a friend for that time, and it was really good. I don't care that you - can't even  _understand,_ god, I'm trying to tell you that I miss you and most of it is just going over your head, I don't know why I -  _bother,_ because it's all just - "

 

Stiles cut off with a sharp sort of noise. Derek's hand was - definitely, on his face, very - distracting, when he was trying to rant,  _super_ distracting, actually, he had rough fingertips, what did he do to get rough fingertips?

 

"Stiles," he spoke quietly, with that soft inflection that always made Stiles go red, the few times he heard it. "I have been fluent in English for years."

 

What.

 

What.

 

_What._

 

"What?"

 

Derek's fingertips slid lingering from his cheek, and he sighed. "I understand you." 

 

Stiles got up so fast the chair flew backwards and clattered to the ground. He -  _understood_ him. He understood him and he just, he -  _lied,_ even when he knew Stiles was telling him  _secrets,_ things he said he didn't talk about to anyone else because no one else would listen, and he just - he fucking -  _lied -_

 

He was at the portrait hole before he realized he was moving, and Derek called after him, "Stiles wait!"

 

He turned on his heel, seething. " _Don't._ "

 

And he left Derek Hale to be all by his stupid fucking self, sad and lonely in the god damned kitchen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They didn't talk about it. Stiles and Derek stopped sitting together. Scott pat him on the back once and didn't mention it again, though he looked like he  _really_ wanted to say something. The one time Allison tried desperately to bring it up, Stiles just up and walked away. She didn't try that again.

 

Still, there was a strange tension in the air. As usual, Stiles felt as though he was missing out - like he didn't quite have  _all_ the facts, despite Derek having already come clean. He'd forgiven Allison, for not telling him. It wasn't like he didn't understand that. Allison and Derek were best friends, similar to him and Scott - all the exchange students were, as it turned out. Of course she kept her best friend's secrets. He could understand that. He just didn't understand why  _Derek_ lied.

 

Was it fun for him? Was it a game, mess with the kid for bothering me and then he just decided to keep going? God, Stiles was so stupid, to have ever felt - anything for that stupid, worthless,  _jerk_ of a French wizard. That's all he was thinking when Friday night came and he was holed up in his four-poster bed, tossing a ball absently at the headboard, head propped up on pillows at the foot of the bed. Stupid, accents and voices and stubbly faces, god, he was such an idiot.

 

Something sounded outside the curtains, like the fluttering of wings. He frowned. Hermes lived in the Owlery during school. Tentatively, he opened the curtain enough for the owl to dip inside.

 

He was a proud, large, and black sort of creature. Stiles' stomach dropped - he had a sinking suspicion he knew who's owl this was. Still, he took it's parcel and let him nip softly at Stiles' finger once before he went on his way. He knew it was a book - either that or a small flat box - and he frowned, shaking his head, tempted to throw it away. Who cared if Derek sent him a book, anyway?

 

... Apparently Stiles. With a put upon sigh, he tore at the brown paper wrapper, ferociously, revealing the leather-bound cover underneath. It was blank, the spine worn and soft, and he realized with a jolt that it wasn't a book, but a  _journal._ A journal... filled with Derek's thoughts, with the sounds of his quill scratching against parchment. 

 

He damned his curiosity to hell for it, but Stiles opened the book, taking in the ink soaked pages filled with crosses that didn't quite manage to obscure much of anything and perfectly readable scrawl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 6th**

_Mme Morrell has instructed us to keep journals, in order to improve our English writing skill. Laura says it's pointless - Papa is from Scotland, and we have grown up in a bilingual household, so our English is better than some of our classmates. However... I do not think it is wise to disobey Mme Morrell, especially after she was so ~~reluctantly~~  kind as to settle the matter with  ~~Kate Mlle Argent~~  Kate._

Stiles frowned - matter with Allison's aunt? He'd only heard of her once, from Scott, when he told him that Allison wasn't close to any of her family outside of her father, after some sort of falling out.

_Besides, I do not think she will read them, if I am honest. I wonder if this assignment was given more for us than for her. After all, we were chosen because we were the best in our class - I doubt she thinks us irresponsible enough to be checking in by reading into our lives. Whatever it is, I find as my quill meets the parchment... that I am enjoying it. I have never been so very talented with words, not in English, with it's cut edges and confusing stops and turns. Yet in writing it becomes far easier to articulate just what it is I am feeling._

_I am afraid, ~~to write everything I am feeling in these pages. Not the first ones - for the Mme will read those, if she will remember this assignment at all.~~  of history repeating itself. Laura tells me that I must not be so dour._

_I am quick to refute her._

_The moon is high by now, and it is only by it's light I manage to fill this page. But I think that I will... return, to this. It may be good. We arrive at Hogwarts in two days time, and I should be awake to see it._

 

 

 

**February 9th**

_Few things could jar me so, that I would remember this journal. Hogwarts is a strange and cheery place, eventful, always... bustling. Yet somehow I am unable to notice it, because something else has eclipsed my mind._

~~_T_   _here_~~

~~_I_   _met_~~

_Stiles._

 

He sucked in a harsh breath. Oh, Jesus fuck. 

 

_He said his name was Stiles. He seems so very... adjusted. Like he belongs. When I look at him I am jealous, for that, because I did not belong at Beauxbatons after what Kate had done, and I do not belong here, in halls full of light and choppy language._

_I believe he thinks me to be ignorant of his words. I wanted to tell him, to speak back, but something about him had captivated me. Is this what it would be like, if I was normal, if I had come to this place a year ago and spoke to him the way I wanted? Is this... I do not know. But he intrigues me, like nothing else here does. Classes bore me, though I am improving my spoken English once more, and though they will not tell me, I know Allison and Isaac are pursuing new love. I want to be happy for them._

_I want to pursue him, also. But it is hard to see past what has happened. To let go. To forget. And I am afraid that at the first touch of his skin to mine I would crumble into ashes._

 

It went on, like this. Stiles couldn't help it, couldn't have stopped himself reading if he tried, and he wanted to curse Derek for that, but he couldn't. Because Derek had practically -  _handed_ him his heart on a bloody fucking platter, what was he supposed to do with that? He didn't... know him, enough, to even - but he had, he'd done it too. Gotten caught up. And with every page Derek was a little clearer. It was like seeing inside his head.

 

Stiles was already so god damn  _obsessed_ with it.

 

 

 

**February 17th**

_Stiles is so very, incredibly enchanting. I do not think he knows, the way I watch him. The way I long to speak, to respond, to tell him that he understands me in ways no one else has despite my reluctance to make a sound. He speaks of the value in loyalty and guidance, and I think that I would like very much to live in his dreams. In his ideals. To be the kind of person he thinks of and admires, when he talks of Hufflepuff and his eyes glaze over._

_I know I cannot be. Kate has reminded me many times of my disloyalty. Laura and Maman say I have made the right decision... it is easier, to think so, when I am not near to her. I am glad Mme Morrell has put her on administrative leave until I have graduated. It is a ~~strange~~  kind thing for her to do._

_I wonder what Stiles would think, if I could open my mouth, if the words would even manage to force their way out. About Kate and about Cora, about Peter, about all of it. But I am afraid. I am afraid that if I open my mouth he will brand me a liar, and that I would never be allowed the pleasure of watching his hands spin stories of Scott and Lydia, his eyes glint in light reflected from golden goblets. I am afraid that if I told him he would know me to be a monster._

_I am cowardly._

 

 

 

 

Each entry seemed to mention her.  _Kate Argent._ He'd tried to scratch out her last name, but not well enough that Stiles couldn't read it. Derek mentioned administrative leave, which led him to believe she was a Professor of some kind at their school, but more information wasn't very forthcoming. It seemed like whatever happened... Derek didn't want to relive it again. Though he seemed to tell it in little pieces - interspersed through the story he told of, apparently, falling in love with Stiles.

 

That part he was still attempting to wrap his head around. He talked about  _everything -_ every conversation Stiles remembered was in there. It was weird, seeing the way Derek saw him. But also pretty... flattering. And fascinating, since Derek seemed to find them quite similar. Stiles was slowly inclined to agree.

 

 

 

**March 13th**

_Stiles is a Seeker. I wanted to tell him today, that I am a Beater at home, and that I love it, I love to fly. I can tell Stiles loves to fly, too. Being here makes me miss very much, our Quidditch pitch. I know I have been banned, after the hearing took place and Mlle Argent was sent away, but I would like to play, again. Sometime._

_Maybe with Stiles, if he will want me when I tell him._

_I try each day, to say the words. 'I understand.' But how can you tattoo liar across your heart before someone has the chance to see their name was written there first? Laura looked over my shoulder the other day, when I had the journal out. She told me not to get my grammar from old books, and to stop 'waxing poetic'. I am unfamiliar with the term. Laura is learning very much, and making so many friends. I wonder if people notice me, notice that she is my twin, and wonder, what is wrong with him?_

_What is wrong, with me, indeed._

_I touched him, today. I opened my mouth to say it, but I spoke in French instead, because I am a coward. I wish he could have listened. Could know that he is a hero to me because he is so very dauntless. He approaches things and people with a fervor I have seen unparalleled. His skin was so soft, beneath my fingertips, and I ~~need crave~~  want him. It feels very wrong, to want someone again. I am afraid that I will see Kate again, and she will tell me I am hers and I will be, because she has said so, and Stiles will slip from my fingers._

_If I could manage to have him there, to begin with._

 

 

 

 

 

Stiles shuddered. There were a million emotions going through him, because it didn't take much for things to finally click into place.  _And she will tell me I am hers and I will be, because she has said so._ Kate Argent had been a Professor at his school, but whatever she'd done to Derek had been way out of bounds. And Derek, it seemed, didn't talk to anyone about it, outside of his family. He still hadn't found who Peter and Cora were, but it was a start. It didn't... excuse away the lies, for Stiles, but it did explain. Why he was so reluctant and terrified. And it made something in Stiles' heart lurch, because this would most likely have started last year. Maybe even the year before, making him younger than Stiles. Younger than Stiles and  _owned_ by someone like that...

 

 

 

 

**March 22nd**

_Cora wrote to me. She sounded... very normal, like nothing had changed. It doesn't make sense to me. How can she be okay? How can she, be_   _okay_   _when I did this to her. When she has to repeat the whole year, because of me, because of what I've done. When Peter can't even stand to look at me - Cora is acting like it's alright._

_I wish I could tell her it isn't. I wish she would be angry with me, instead of the... pity, like Laura and Maman and Papa. She could be dead. Would have been, if not for luck. Kate... was so angry, so very angry, and I was the person who made her that way. But she could not break her toys so she broke my sister, instead, not permanently but I still feel it. Writing is meant to help us experience our feelings in the correct manner, but the more I write the harder my quill falls against the parchment and the more I feel as though I am going out of my mind.  
_

_I hate that we cannot prove this. What she did, to Cora, and to me. I hate that Peter has taken her side. But I cannot stop this. I do not know how. And I am afraid that someone will see it, stitched across my skin._

_That Stiles will see it, and that he will run._

 

 

 

Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath. This was -  _really_ fucked up. When he'd tried to imagine the reasons that Derek didn't want to talk to him, he thought of pranks and bets, not of this - rising fear he saw in this journal, like he was reading a slow-motion panic attack. He really... shouldn't, get involved with this, with Derek, even though he wrote about Stiles like he was writing poetry. This was too much, too much for  _anyone_ to deal with... and that was the  _problem._ He was a sucker when he was invested. When he got too involved, and he already  _was_ too involved. And if he was being honest... no one should have to go through that shit feeling alone and pushing everyone away.

 

The journal wasn't all about him or about Derek's problems with Kate, but he skipped over the stuff about classes, about people he didn't know. The next entry about him made Stiles laugh, which he was glad for, because he was already on the verge of doing something stupid. Like crying, or breaking into the Beauxbatons carriage and just hugging the guy. After punching him in the face for lying all those months. He couldn't really decide between the two.

 

 

 

 

**March 28th**

_Pretty._

_He said I was pretty._

_We do not necessarily have the same word, en Français, but it made me feel... warm. He says I do not try to be, and that is true, because that is why Kate chose me. But Stiles speaks about it as if... it is only a doorway to my personality. He does not know me, has not spoken to me, yet when he speaks I feel as though he has known me for years._

_He says that I think he is a puzzle and he is right, though I do not know how he knows such things. Stiles is mystifying. I have tried very hard, not to make friends, here, yet somehow even my silence has not deterred him. He is quite resilient, and I do not know what to make of this._

_But I do not want to let it go._

_I must talk to Maman. She will know how to make this right._

 

**April 5th**

_I spoke to Maman about Stiles, today. Laura and Cora were eavesdropping, I am sure, but it was nice to see Cor again. I have missed her, and it seems she has missed me, despite my faults and mistakes._

_Maman has told me that I must... bare my heart. Yet how? I must first tell him I understand, which will surely send him running. How can I explain to him, then, after? About Kate, and Cora, about how I am scared, about the things I cannot put into words when I am too nervous to try._

_How can I tell him about my past, about who I am? How can I bare my heart to him and expect him to return that offering? I have never felt this way, never thought I could. Maman says I cannot let Kate keep power over me, but I am afraid. I am afraid that he... will understand._

_And that Kate will come again, and this time, she will succeed._

 

 

 

 

The entries didn't mention him again for a while, more than in passing. It seemed Derek was working up the courage. Stiles turned the page, and was surprised to see it - ink was flecked across, as if Derek had been writing very fast and with much emotion.

 

 

 

 

**April 24th**

~~_I do not know why I thought_  
~~

~~_How can I be_ ~~

~~_I wish_ ~~

~~_So stupid to think_ ~~

_Hogsmeade visits were today. I wanted to see Stiles, but I... How could I not think that he would have someone, eventually? That I would lose my chance? I have been a fool, as Laura would say, and I do not know what to do. Laura says I could have misread the situation, but I do not think I have._

_"You are the only one for me."_

_Laura says I do not understand the art of sarcasm, but I am unclear as to what she could mean. And I am... forlorn, apparently. Allison has taken to picking feathers from her pillow and making them fly at my face. She does not say anything, but I am grateful for her attempts at distraction._

 

 

 

 

"You're such an idiot!"

 

"Stilinski,  _shut up!_ " Stiles winced. Right, he was in his dormitory and people were still attempting to sleep. He'd managed to read through the night, but it was Saturday, and it was still early. Too many people in his dormitory were still trying to sleep in.

 

Whatever. It didn't even  _matter_ anymore. Stiles tucked the journal under his pillow, only bothering to slip on jeans and a maroon(?) t-shirt before he was out the door, still putting on his shoes while he walked. He mumbled, too, much to the confusion of anyone he passed, but he ignored them, shaking his head. "Stupid," he said under his breath, " _So_ stupid! Who doesn't recognize Lydia Martin? Who doesn't recognize  _sarcasm?_ You  _are_ a fool, you - nitwit! Ugh." 

 

He knew Derek would be in the kitchens. He wouldn't have anywhere else to go. He tickled the pear before crossing his arms, tapping his foot impatiently. 

 

As soon as the doors opened he was walking straight to Derek, ignoring the house elves (which was rude, but he really couldn't deal with being polite) and slamming his hands down on the table. Derek's goblet shuddered and almost fell, but Derek didn't see, considering he was looking up at Stiles with eyes wider than he'd ever see him. 

 

"You," Stiles seethed. 

 

"Me." Derek swallowed hard. 

 

"Come  _on,_ " Stiles tugged him up by the wrist, abandoning his food and the house elves altogether and dragging him out of the portrait hole, starting in the opposite direction of the Hufflepuff common room. Derek's wrist was limp in his grasp for the first length of steps, but after a while, he tentatively slipped his fingers around Stiles', too, and  _where the hell was an empty classroom when he needed one?_ This place was full of them, fuck,  _why._

 

"... Stiles?" Damn it, Derek sounded  _adorably_ confused and hopeful, it was ridiculous, Stiles was already trying really hard to be mad at him as it was. "Shut up," he hissed, dragging him into the first classroom he found and shutting the door, waving his wand and listening to the click of the lock.

 

Derek stood in the middle of the room, hands pressing into his thighs, looking down nervously. Stiles stepped in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest. "What the hell was that?"

 

Stiles cut Derek off before he could try and explain, throwing his hands up and turning around. "I mean, what was - you can't just lie to me for  _months,_ and then tell me you're, like,  _in love with me._ Who does that, Derek? No one normal does that." At the unabashedly hurt look on Derek's face, Stiles sighed.

 

He really  _was_ a total sucker, damn it. He was blaming Scott. As soon as he could find him, definitely blaming Scott.

 

Stiles threw his arms around Derek's torso, sinking into his broad shoulders and nosing at his neck. Derek seemed to freeze, and for a moment turned to stone, but the tension seemed to bleed out of him altogether after that, and he hugged back, tight, like he thought Stiles might rethink the decision. 

 

"I wouldn't have  _hated_ you, moron." His voice was muffled a little by Stiles' neck. Derek clutched at the hem of his shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric. 

 

" _I_ hate me."

 

Stiles groaned. "Yeah, well, you're a  _moron._ We established that. Good thing I'm keeping you around, right?"

 

Derek shivered. 

 

"Yes. That is good."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Epilogue_

**July 7th**

 

"Mmf!" Stiles' back hit the inside of his bedroom door at the same time as Derek's mouth hit his, any words he was going to say cut off by the contact. Derek's hand cradled the back of his neck to prevent his head from hitting hard against the wood, his other hand slipping under Stiles' shirt with zero preamble. Stiles relaxed into his touch, just as eager for it as Derek was despite the fact that they'd seen each other last only three weeks ago. 

 

They broke for air, with Derek trailing little kisses down his neck, stubble scratching across his skin in a way that made Stiles' breath hitch. "My dad," he gasped, clutching at the back of Derek's neck to keep him there, belying his words. Derek's pinky dipped beneath his waistband like a tease and he groaned, head thumping against the door despite Derek's care earlier, mouth dropping open. 

 

"Is not here," Derek growled out, after sucking a bruise into his favorite part of Stiles' skin. His hands slipped the fabric up Stiles' torso, and Stiles raised his arms in compliance, shaking his head as Derek pressed in to kiss him again, sliding slow hands across his torso. "Coming home soon," he murmured, fumbling with the button of Derek's jeans and dragging them down enough so they'd fall off by themselves, "Wants to meet you". Derek used the hands on the small of Stiles' back to pull him towards the bed, walking backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge and he could fall back, and Stiles laughed - Derek looked best sprawled out beneath him.

 

He pulled Derek up so that he was sitting and stripped him of his shirt, tossing it off the bed before pushing him down so Stiles could wiggle out of his jeans and boxers. He didn't know why he bothered to put up a fight - in a moment, Derek would probably slip into French again, and he  _knew_ Stiles couldn't resist that, he knew it.

 

Stiles pressed a kiss to the place over Derek's heart, and Derek made a pained noise - one Stiles recognized, like he was still surprised that you could be caring while still being sexual. For all that he'd been mostly a virgin before Derek, he'd been discovering there was a lot to teach him. Including things like this. He trailed a path to Derek's abs, paying attention to each in turn because they totally deserved it, fuck, he had  _great_ muscles, and they tensed under Stiles' mouth, made Derek slide a hand through his hair and little hitching noises escape his throat.

 

Finally he couldn't wait anymore, pulling Derek's boxers off and sliding back up to kiss him, heavy and open-mouthed, one arm propping him up while the other slid down to wrap around both of them, groaning loudly into Derek's mouth at the contact and breaking their kiss.

 

"Fuck," Derek breathed, and Stiles grinned, because the fact that they used fuck in France too never failed to make him laugh. Derek slid his hands up Stiles' back, blunt nails digging into that sensitive spot between Stiles' shoulders he could never reach on his own, making his hips buck into Derek's. He sank his teeth into Derek's pulse point, hard, and Derek made a choked off  _mewling_ sound (jesus chris, fuck) and came all over both of them, shaking and making desperate noises that went straight to Stiles' cock, He slowed his movements before stopping altogether, knowing he was in no danger of losing his hardon, before leaning up to kiss Derek, something mischievous in his eyes.

 

Derek frowned. "Don't."

 

"Not that I'm  _complaining_ \- " Stiles started, and Derek groaned, " - but I think even our first time you lasted longer than that." He'd rolled off a little to the side, propping his head up on one hand and smirking at Derek.

 

Who was looking very sheepish, if not quite as embarrassed as Stiles thought he would. He looked at him then looked away, mumbling something.

 

"What was that?"

 

Derek sighed. "I have not - since we - "

 

Stiles' eyes widened. "You haven't - like,  _nothing?_ Duuuuude, why would you even - "

 

"I missed you," Derek explained while hiding his face in his arm. Stiles was shell shocked, for a moment, before running his fingers through Derek's rumpled hair. "That's very sweet of you. I love you too. Not  _that_ much, but - "

 

Derek moaned in something like false despair and rolled his head up enough to blink an annoyed green eye at him.  _"Arrête de parler_ _,_ Stiles. Shut up."

 

Stiles laughed. "No way. I am going to brag about this, like, for years, you'll never - jesus fucking - "

 

As he was talking, Derek decided to find a different way to shut him up and slid towards the foot of the bed, rolling so he was between Stiles' legs and taking his head into the heat of his mouth before Stiles could really notice what he was doing.

 

" -  _christ,_ " Stiles finished on a moan, curling his fingers around the nape of Derek's neck.

 

Derek hummed, pleased that Stiles resorted to expletives rather than teasing, and Stiles' eyes rolled back a little, legs falling open. "If you - t-think that means I wont,  _oh my god, oh my god Derek,_ continue -  _nn,_ please - " Derek slid down slow, bobbing a few times so he'd relax before sliding down until he was nosing at the base of Stiles' cock, looking up at him under long, dark eyelashes. Stiles moaned, long and drawn out, and he could feel Derek's mouth twitch, like he wanted to smile. His hands came up, holding his thighs in an attempt to keep him in place, and started moving, taking him in slow and deep over and over again. 

 

Stiles tried, really, to continue making fun of him. Because stopping would mean allowing Derek to win, and that just wasn't right,  _Stiles_ was the winner in this relationship. But he couldn't -  _think_ about it, because every time he tried to say something that wasn't Derek's name, a curse, and/or some form of begging, Derek would do something spectacularly unfair that had him shaking and falling apart all over again. 

 

He hated it, absolutely, hated, no way he liked it, nope, no - "Ah, ah,  _ah,_ fuck, please, I wanna - "

 

Stiles didn't really know  _what_ he was asking for, but apparently Derek did, because he did something very complicated with his tongue at the same time as deepthroating him again, thumb pressing at Stiles' hole, and then he was coming harder than he had in... well, in about three weeks.

 

Derek swallowed (like a gentleman) and then gently slid off him, pulling himself up enough to kiss Stiles. He didn't really mind tasting himself on Derek's tongue - it was just another reminder that Derek was with him, now, and he with Derek. He sighed in a sort of post-orgasm-bliss and curled into Derek's body when the older wizard dropped onto the bed beside him, wrapping an arm around Stiles' waist.  _  
_

"Mm," Stiles hummed in content, making Derek laugh. "No more teasing, Stiles," he said quietly, pressing a kiss to his temple. Stiles nodded, though both of them knew that would never happen, and nuzzled in some more.

 

For a moment they lay together in blissful silence.

 

_Knock knock knock._

 

Stiles stiffened, as did Derek, and Stiles could  _feel_ it when Derek swallowed. Hard.

 

"If you two are  _done_ in there, dinner is in ten. Steak. And we're having  _dessert._ "

 

Stiles' father's footsteps thumped down the stairs, and Stiles sat up, looking completely lost. "Did that just - "

 

"Yes," Derek told him, looking equally horrified.

 

"Fuck," Stiles swore loudly, smacking Derek in the chest. " _And_ he's getting dessert now, too."

 

Derek gave him a sheepish frown.

 

"I'm never trusting you to pick sexytime again."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dinner, at least, was an eventual success.

 

Dining with Derek's family ended up being  _far_ more embarrassing, anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://mrsclaudiastilinski.tumblr.com).
> 
> Translations:
> 
> 1) You do not like to be the hero, but it will go well on you.
> 
> 2) Derek's conversation with his mother:
> 
> "Mom?"
> 
> "Yes, dear."
> 
> "How do you tell someone you love them, when you have lied to them? Hurt them."
> 
> "Why did you lie to them?"
> 
> "Because - I was scared."
> 
> "Bare your heart. Hope for forgiveness. Be kind and patient, and hold onto your passion. Even if forgiveness comes slowly. Persistence is the highest form of flattery."
> 
> "I'm still scared. After Mlle. Argent - "
> 
> "She is not the end of you. Do not give her power."
> 
> "Yes, Mom."
> 
> "Onions now, please, dear. And I expect to see this person in the summer holidays."
> 
> 3) "Stop speaking."
> 
>  
> 
> Now, since so many people were asking, I'm going to put in my history of what happened with Kate. However, the idea in the story is that it's left up to the imagination, so you're still welcome to think whatever you like! This is what I have:
> 
> Kate was a Professor at Beauxbatons during the time Derek, Laura and Cora attended school there. During Derek's fifth year Kate seduced him, in the wake of his first real girlfriend moving away (Paige lives!). She treated him basically as property, and he was tricked, by Kate, into thinking that's what adult love was.
> 
> Eventually, however, Derek and Kate were found out by Laura. Kate was unaware, but Laura made it very clear to Derek that what was happening was not okay. He defended Kate for a long time, but eventually was beginning to pull away from her under the strict, protective guidance of his sister.
> 
> When Kate noticed this, she assumed that it had been Cora pulling him away, and Cora who knew, because Cora was actually a student in Kate's classes where Laura was not. She attempted to kill Cora using dark magic, and Cora underwent a very slow recovery, but it was never proven that Kate was behind the magic, because she removed the spell from her wand (as per Harry Potter canon).
> 
> Peter sided with Kate - they were good friends, and Peter was also a professor at Beauxbatons - but Morrell decided that the matter was too debated, and that something had most definitely happened with Kate and Derek. Kate attempted to put the blame on Derek, saying he kissed her and she told him it was inappropriate, etc, but eventually it was easier just to fire Kate than bring the scandal to light.
> 
> Derek feels guilty about what happened to Cora, blaming himself, and Peter thinks Derek is a petulant brat who got his colleague fired for fun. That's the history!


End file.
